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Book III: Gathering Storm Tributes and Trials, Part 3 Dec 1, New York Whitney watched as Bryan Armitage walked into the shareholders meeting. Whitney did not need to open himself up to feel the glee radiating from the man. ’He can’t be behind this.’ Whitney took a moment and opened his mind, focusing only on Armitage. Realizing that he was in full view at the front of the room on stage, he rubbed his temples to feign a headache. ‘Someone has been in his mind!’ Suddenly all the pieces came together and Whitney knew coercion was in play. He was an Empath, he could not counter whatever had been done by the Telepath who'd tampered with Bryan's mind. He was strong, but he didn’t think he could break a compulsion; in fact, he knew he couldn’t, nor could Lex. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had ten minutes. Moving towards the Chairman, he motioned him aside. For the audience, it looked like an animated discussion with the existing Board. The Chairman, the principle shareholder, and three other Board members joined them in a circle a few feet behind the table. Bryan looked at the scene and could not be happier. He may have held only a ten percent voting block, but he had enough support to challenge the Board. If the minor shareholders and individual shareholders could be convinced, he would take control. His glee turned to concern as he watched Whitney Fordman move off the stage to talk with the J.P. Morgan Chase representative and then Goldman Sachs. Those were two of the largest Institutional Investors. As Whitney moved away from them, Bryan hurried to speak to them. He was on a first name basis with both and they were on the fence about a change in control. Together they represented almost ten percent of the votes as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, if we can get down to business please. As many of you know, this vote has been called to replace the current Board of Directors with a new slate,” the chairman said. Too late. Bryan slipped back into his seat as a man rose from the front row. Bryan’s heart started hammering. “Mr. Chairman, I move that the slates be broken and that each seat be placed up for election on an individual basis, as is the norm under NAI by laws.” Bryan saw that it was the Goldman Sachs representative making the motion. He watched as it was seconded by Merrill Lynch’s rep. To Bryan's horror, Fordman’s heavy proxies backed them and in moments momentum shifted away from Bryan’s coalition. He would have to campaign for all twenty-one seats and that meant Fordman was almost assured of a seat. ‘FUCK!’ Whitney sat on stage and was using his Pocket PC to send a message to Chris that Armitage was a front man for the whole operation. He looked over the crowd and could feel the man’s anger and frustration. He hid his smile; he’d changed the playing field -- now he had to ensure the proper results. Bryan listened as the new Board was announced and the vote tabulations were shown. He mentally groaned as Whitney Fordman was reelected to the board and with the most votes. The tally was not in his faction's favor. Fordman had out maneuvered him by breaking up the up-and-down slates. The new Board held thirteen in Fordman’s faction and eight in Bryan’s. He looked over at the arrogant young man shaking hands with the out-going Board members and knew that he’d twisted arms and god-knows-what-else to win a majority. Whitney finished thanking members who were leaving the Board. Several of them expressed gratitude, since they would not face an openly hostile atmosphere at every meeting. He smiled and saw a seething Bryan Armitage talking to a few people out in the crowd. ‘I still have NAI and now we have a trail to follow. Yes, Bryan, you will lead us to an unexpected source of enemies.’ Shaking a few more hands, Whitney headed down and to his car. He wanted out of New York - he wanted to go back home. Dec 3, Metropolis Clark looked down from the penthouse and found the view below far more colorful than usual. The Winter Street Carnival was in full swing, but he was loath to take the kids into that mess. Still an hour or two and then the Nutcracker would not hurt. He looked over as Jeff and Nick came into the room. “Hi, guys.” Jeff joined Clark at the windows. “You know, my nephews keep asking if they can go down to ‘Nanas’ party.” Lex walked in flanked by Whitney and Alan. “We are taking them, BUT we need the help of certain uncles.” Lex gave Nick and Jeff a meaningful glance. Nick answered for both of them. “Of course, be glad to help.” Clark watched as four bounding, bouncing boys came flying down the hall, warmly dressed and ready for action. Whitney rounded them up. “Okay, everyone pair up with an adult. Ben, why don’t you go with your Uncle Nick?” Clark gave Nick a wicked grin. "Good luck." Alan looked over the pairings. “Good. It will be easier to track you tall folks than the short people. We have plenty of coverage, though. Have a good time and observe the usual precautions. You all know the drill.” Clark was amazed at the size of the Carnival. His Mom and Anne had been working on this for months, and the results were wonderful. Craft booths, food, drinks, games, live performances, it all enthralled Clark and amazed the boys. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was time to walk the four blocks back to the Penthouse so they could get ready for the Nutcracker. Lex was busy shaking hands and greeting his constituents. Philip had been with him, but he was now with Jonathan, who had joined them along with the in-laws when they reached the street. Clark felt a tug on his shirt. “Poppy, I can’t see,” Wes complained. Clark looked down into huge puppy dog eyes. Clark lifted him into his arms. “Better?” He received a nod in agreement. He looked over and saw Elsa and Hamilton happily chatting between Tristan, Lisa, Anne, and Lionel. Philip was a few feet away, buying things for Christmas under his parents’ eyes. “Poppy, can I have one of those balloons?” Wes was pointing at a booth where clowns were making balloon animals. Clark kissed the top of Wes’ head. “Of course. Are you having fun?” Wes nodded, and as they fell into the Balloon Animals line, Clark listened to a marginally prioritized list of the things Wes had enjoyed the most so far. “Why, if it isn't the famous Mr. Clark Luthor-Fordman-Kent. This is a wholesome scene, father, son, clowns, cute balloon animals...” Clark was shocked by the mildly venomous tone and turned to find that reporter from the Daily Planet right behind him. "Lois Lane, isn't it?" “Public place, public forum, can’t send your attorneys after me here,” Lois said with a huge grin, which she promptly turned on the boy in Clark's arms. “Hi, there. You must be Weston.” Clark did a double take. ‘She knows his name?’ His pulse raced as he tried to figure out that she knew his son’s name. “Wes, only my parents call me Weston,” he told Lois. "And your twin brother Ben, what does he call you?" Without really realizing what he was doing, Clark shifted Wes from one arm to the other, putting his own body between Wes and the reporter as he said coldly, “Ms. Lane, perhaps there is an ambulance that needs chasing or an FBI informant that needs to be placed in danger? I don’t want to talk to you.” He was at the front of the line and Wes picked a purple monkey from the clowns. “Not even off the record?" Clark shoved a bill at the clown, and then took a step toward the reporter, towering over her. "Didn't our lawyer make it clear these children are off-limits to you?" To her credit, Lane refused to back down. "Your threats came through loud and clear. So did your arrogance, Mr. Kent. Senator Luthor may have more money than God, but he doesn't own this town, and so far he hasn't succeeded in re-writing the Constitution or the Bill of Rights." "I'll weigh my right to protect my children over your right to snoop any day of the week. Protecting my kids is far more important than your sensibilities.” He turned and walked away. Wes looked up at Clark. “Poppy, who was that?” Clark kissed his forehead. “A mean woman.” He said it loud enough so that she could hear him. Lois stood there stunned. ‘I am NOT mean! They think they can run the city as if they owned it! I’m not stopping!’ Clark puzzled over how Lois had Wes’ name but he was clueless. Getting the whole family to the Metropolis Hall of the Performing Arts had been an ordeal. The boys had been less than enthusiastic about having to wear formal attire, but Philip liked his bow tie. The Family owned only one box at the Hall, but they had acquired two adjacent boxes for this performance. It was the first true family outing for the boys in Metropolis Society. “I don’t like ties, Daddy,” Ben whined as they walked up the ornate staircase. Philip, Hamilton, and Elsa were walking with Lex and their grandparents. Whitney and Clark had Ben and Wes with them and the rest of the family following along. The three boxes were in prime viewing areas. Hamilton, Philip, and Elsa were going to sit with in the box with their grandparents. Ben and Wes were joining their parents and the rest would be in the last box. Clark settled in his seat as the rest of the party. Lex looked at Clark, disturbed by his reserved attitude. //Are you okay?// //No. Lois Lane knew Wes’ name when she saw me getting a balloon with him. And Ben's too.// Whitney looked up from the program. //How is that possible?// Lex ruffled Wes’ hair unconsciously. //She has proven to be most adept at probing for information concerning us. This needs to be examined in detail.// Whitney leaned back and looked at the boys. “Are you both ready to watch the performance?” Wes sighed, “Yes, Daddy.” Ben looked up at him. “Why do I have to wear ties?” “That is just how it works.” //Guys, we should talk to Jack about the legal ramification of putting Lane under surveillance.// //Immediately.// Clark watched as the curtain rose. //We have to find out what she knows and who's feeding her information.// He looked over and saw that the boys were enthralled by the opening. ‘Excellent.’ Dec 7, Washington Lex mingled around the National Air and Space Museum, looking at displays more than the people he was there to meet. He saw the Vice President holding court out of the corner of his eye. Across the hall, Sen. Kelly was talking to a small group of people. “Excuse me, Senator Luthor?” Lex turned from the display to find three people he didn't recognize. “Yes?” A tall dark haired woman spoke. “Hello, I’m Dr. Raven Darkholm, I work at the Pentagon. This is Dr. Valerie Cooper, liaison to the Avengers, and Henry Gyrich, Deputy National Security Advisor. You sit on Government Oversight, so we thought we’d introduce ourselves.” Intrigued at the sudden introduction, Lex smiled. “A pleasure. Since I have you here Mr. Gyrich, any thoughts on the election results from Panama? The national news hasn't mentioned much other than the coup appears to have been made legitimate.” “Mr. Gyrich has been very vocal in National Security Meetings about the need for a rational course of action. Which is to say we should not get involved, isn’t that right, Henry?” All eyes turned to Secretary of Defense, Dr. Gabriel Vance. Henry nodded. “Mr. Secretary.” He turned back to Lex. “Senator, this a complex issue, but the election results upheld the coup. The President now deems that it is an internal matter for Panama and the Treaty of Latin America.” “Nothing like trouble in the backyard," Vance commented. "So, welcome to Washington, Senator Luthor. I must confess your decision to enter the political arena was surprising to many of us, considering the extensive research you've been spearheading. The technology your company possesses is nothing short of remarkable. I’d love to see your R&D labs.” “Well, I no longer have any direct relationship with Minerva, Mr. Secretary.” Vance looked around before commenting, “Dr. Darkholm is a very gifted scientist, too. I'm sure she would like to see that shuttle you use back home and any other gadgets you might have lying around.” A look passed between the three assistant level officials. Vance liked to corner people to make them see his point of view. Henry decided that it was best to exit before that happened. “Senator, Mr. Secretary, if you will excuse us.” With that, Gyrich, Cooper, and Darkholm all left. Lex picked up on the apprehension of Gyrich and his group; clearly they weren't too fond of the heavy-handed Vance. Lex didn't blame them. “Well, you would have to speak to the company about that. If you will excuse me," Lex said to the secretary and walked away, heading towards a knot of Senators he’d already met. Vance walked over to the Vice President’s enclave. Catching his eye, the two moved away from the crowd. “I don’t think Luthor will be one of the people we can count on to help us.” Trask looked over and saw him greeting a few of the Liberals of the Senate. “No, I don’t think he will either. He must be watched though. He has influence that we may not be able to counter.” Lex circulated, talking to a few other people at the gathering. Secretary of the Treasury Walter Johnson was alone when Lex approached him. “Mr. Secretary, I’m Lex Luthor.” “Ah, yes, I know you. Very happy to meet you. How is Washington treating you so far?” “With open arms at the moment." They exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries before Lex asked, "Sir, what is the budgetary outlook for the next year?” Johnson looked at the new Senator and sighed. “Depends on many factors. The budget for Disaster Recovery has been exceeded each year by over twenty percent. Next year we have almost fifty billion budgeted in our projections. Also, Health Care and Social Security are exploding in costs. To be honest, we have intense pressures from multiple directions and Defense spending also faces pressures.” Lex frowned. “What is next year’s projected short fall?” Johnson sighed. “Over four hundred fifty billion dollars at first glance, but unexpected expenses can change that or - unexpected shortfalls.” Lex was not surprised, but given the climate, global security issues, and population issues that had cropped up over the years. “I guess that means we have a great deal of work to do.” “We all do, if you will excuse me?” Sec. Johnson walked away. Lex followed him with his eyes but allowed his thoughts to move in different directions. He knew that fiscal policies needed revamping, but his mind was front and center on the Mutant issue. Dec. 10, Baltimore The temperature was hovering right at freezing and a stiff breeze coming off the ocean made the wind chill bracing. Chris turned up the collar of his navy pea coat to shield his face from the cold. I also gave him a little obscurity from anyone who might take a second glance at him, but it was after midnight and this section of the Baltimore docks were fairly deserted. He was trying to follow the trail that Chloe had researched for Whitney, but it wasn't an easy trail to follow. Case in point, one of the key proxies that Bryan Armitage held came from a company that listed its address as the shabby building Chris was standing in front of. But the name of the company on the proxy was not the name on the glass pane of the door. Chris ran his flashlight across it again. Weyland-Yutani Corp. Chris found it hard to believe this ramshackle shipping company could hold key proxies for North American Imperial. ‘Great, more of a mystery to solve.’ Sticking to the shadows, Chris scoped out the security system. It was a little more sophisticated than he would have expected, based on the appearance of the building, but appearances could be deceiving. And how. He disabled the security system, picked the lock, and discovered a sleekly modern office area with computer systems worthy of Silicon Valley and even a GPS monitoring bay. Impressed, he stopped at the active GPS bay and studied the four plasma monitors--each one depicting a quadrant of the Mercator globe. There were yellow blips in every ocean -- that made sense for a shipping company -- but the little red land-based blips were far more interesting. What kind of ships was Weyland-Yutani tracking in Paris, Prague, Athens, Dallas, and Metropolis? And why were there red blips in the seaport cities of Marrakech, Cape Town, Houston, London, and San Francisco. Chris made notes of all the red-blips, then moved on. Wielding his favorite spycam, he went from workstation to workstation quickly snapping images of notes, documents, anything that might prove useful later in figuring out why Weyland-Yutani didn't want anyone to know that it had just made a big bid to assume control of NAI. Chris was tempted to boot up one of the computers and see what treasures he could uncover, but he didn't have the kind of time it would take to circumvent any security measures they might have installed. It was important that he not leave any footprints, literal or figurative. When he'd done all he could without giving himself away, he made a hasty but careful retreat, convinced that this plot was deeper than he expected. Chris found his blood pumping a little harder at the prospect of having a real lead to follow. This could turn out to be fun. It was better, certainly, than the reporter issue that now confronted the Family. Or the investigation into the death of one the boys' former nannies. Whitney hadn't explained why the Triad wanted to know the details of Jessica Worthy's demise, but Chris had sensed it was important. He'd put his best investigator on it. The Lois Lane problem was still under debate. No one quite knew how to deal with a reporter who was willing to do anything to get information about the Family. Chris wanted to take her out, but that was an emotional response, not a rational one. Still, her relentless pursuit of the Family could present an imminent danger. She knew Weston by sight and Ben by name; the photographs she'd acquired of Philip had been confiscated by Jack King, but it was naive to think that she hadn't retained copies. What other information did she have, and where had she acquired it? There were no leaks from the Palace, of this Chris was certain. Former employees were another matter entirely. Everyone who'd had contact with the boys and would have known their names had to be interviewed. That list was at least twenty long and so far only five had been interviewed. Not the efficiency level Chris would have liked, but with a new family home being constructed in Washington and Lex's heightened public profile, the responsibilities of his security team were multiplying fast. Chris's personnel resources were stretched too thin, and that was dangerous. He and Alan needed to sit down and discuss promotions within the ranks -- determine who could be trusted to move into positions closer to the family, and then start background checks on a batch of new recruits. Dec 15, New York The United Nations General Assembly was not the normal scene for the launch of a new nation, but The Union of Latin America wanted the same treatment as the European Union had received. Many nations still did not buy the propaganda that Panama had been liberated, but the vote had been certified by neutral observers. It had to be honored. In the Gallery, Ivan Acevado watched the proceedings with glee. It was a great time, many plans and ambitions were coming to fruition. ‘We will be a force to be reckoned with, none will be able to dictate to us any longer. The future will be ours.’ Metropolis Lois had not been in contact with Jessica Worthy since her trip to Billings, but news of the woman's death was not unexpected. It came from the administrator of the Jessica's assisted living complex along with a packet of notes Jessica had addressed to Lois but hadn't had a chance to mail. The packet contained a photo of Jessica in Smallville, but the notes were mostly incoherent ramblings. “Hey Ace, I was able to get a few more names on the Minerva Security front. I have photos for over a dozen now, but none match our guy,” Jimmy commented as he helped himself to the last quarter of Lois’ bagel. “I wasn't done with that,” she responded half-heartedly as she reviewed the additions to the list. “This gives us about forty names and a dozen pictures. Excellent. Frankly, I'm surprised we haven't met a couple more of them in person yet." Jimmy frowned around the bagel he was chewing. "Why would we be meeting them?" he mumbled. "I did a little name dropping to Clark Kent at the Winter Carnival." Jimmy blanched. "What name?" "His sons, Wes and Ben. He swallowed convulsively, sending his mouthful of dough down the wrong pipe. "Are you...crazy?" he managed to get out between coughing and sputtering. “I don't think so,” Lois replied as she looked over the bios for the additions Jimmy brought her. Jimmy was in a panic. “Lois, why didn’t you mention this earlier? That one slip could have them in a tizzy.” "It wasn't a slip, Jimmy. I did it on purpose. I want them in a tizzy. I want them worried about how much I know and what I'm going to do with the information." "For the love of Mike, WHY?" "Because it's the only way they're ever going to let me into their camp." "Beg pardon?" He couldn't be hearing her right. "I want an interview, Jimmy," she hissed, looking around covertly to be sure no one was eavesdropping. "I want inside that Palace. I want to see those kids in their natural habitat. That's not going to happen until they realize they can't intimidate me into silence." "Oh, yeah? I think a bullet to the brain is pretty intimidating!" Jimmy hissed right back at her. Lois straightened. "Stop being melodramatic." "Hey, you're the one who told me that Worthy-dame claimed Luthor tampered with her brain. Wiped her memories. Well, I like my memories where they are, thank you!" He stood up, scattering bagel crumbs all over Lois's desk. "The only thing I'd want to forget around here is you!" "Keep that up and I'll see if I can arrange it," Lois shouted to his retreating backside. 'Idiot! I know what I'm doing!' She glanced down and caught a glimpse of the photo of a barely-smiling but apparently healthy Jessica Worthy in front of a Smallville coffeehouse Jessica recognized from the campaign trail. Lois compared the photo to her mental image of the Jessica Worthy she'd met in Billings. The sense-memory stench of death from that apartment came flooding back to her, and suddenly her words sounded very hollow. Lois wasn't sure of what she was doing at all, but she'd set her course and she was too stubborn to turn back now. Smallville Clark walked into the Keeper’s room. He’d been summoned with no indication of why. //My lord, I have a gift for you in this time of giving.// “Thank you," he said, surprised. The Keeper had given him many things over the years, but never on a sentimental occasion like a holiday or anniversary. In front of him materialized an ‘S’ design, captured in a five-sided diamond-shaped frame. Clark plucked it from the air. “What is it?” //Lord Kal-El, may I present to you the Crest of the House of El. You are fully mature and are the rightful leader of the House. Your father would be proud.// Clark looked down at it, trying to blink back unexpected tears. “Thank you.” //It is nothing, my Lord. You are worthy of all it represents.// Clark left the room, cradling the crest in his large hands. He found Whitney and Lex waiting for him at the entrance to the Family wing; their link made speech unnecessary. They let Clark reflect on the gift he had been given as they made their way upstairs. They walked into their bedroom before Clark spoke. “It's very beautiful.” Lex looked at it. “Yes, it is. It is another piece of who you are.” "Who we are," Clark corrected him, pulling both of them into a tight embrace "Without you I'm nothing. I love you both so much.” He received all the response he needed in the returned embrace. Christmas Day - Dallas 3:00 am Chet Desmond considered himself to be a hardened cop, a man who had seen it all. Walking into the old abandoned church was the lowest point of his career. The scene was grisly -- horrendous enough to make him regret ever having agreed to head the task force that tracked crimes like this. He looked over the scene and fought the need to retch and the even stronger impulse to get back on the Substrat Jet that had flown him here, return to D.C., crawl back into the bed he left 3 hours ago, and forget he was a cop. Instead, he went looking for the local PD, many of whom were in shock, others muttering with amusement. He chose a likely-looking gathering of cops and flashed his FBI badge. “I’m Assistant Director Desmond, who's in charge here?” “I am, sir. Capt Mark Dawson. It's gruesome in there.” "I saw." Desmond had done this too many times to give a damn about how badly his next announcement was going to go over. "This is hate crime, Captain. It's my ballgame now. Your people will report directly to Special Agent Cheryl Graham from the Dallas office." Desmond gestured toward the woman who was one of five local FBI who had accompanied him to the scene. "She'll report to me. But it's going to be your ass if a single reporter gets a look at that crime scene. Now what have you got so far?" Dawson had obviously been expecting the jurisdiction switch. He barely blinked before providing a perfunctory briefing of what they knew, which was very little. Chet nodded and returned to the scene, dispersing his people and praying they were good at their jobs because he didn't know a single one of them. This was his first time working out of the Dallas office. Swallowing his disgust, Chet returned to the church, taking in the scene with an analytical eye. Forensics was onsite, dusting for prints and collecting evidence, but it was already a sloppy crime scene. The old church was a wreck, but many of its artifacts were still intact, including the cross above the altar where a teenage boy was hanging upside down. Chet placed him around fifteen-years-old. He was naked, blood no longer flowed from the multitude of wounds. Carved into his chest and stomach, ‘Die mutant scum’. His eyes had been gouged out, the number of bruises and cuts on his body almost obscured his skin tone. "Assistant Director, local Forensics has identified at least six separate foot prints in the blood pooled around the base of the cross. They have a few clean prints," Cheryl Graham told him, then hesitated a moment as she composed her face carefully. "Sir... the kid was alive for most of this.” ‘Mother of God!’ Chet wanted to be sick. "Make sure they don't miss anything." Desmond looked around, assessing, evaluating, trying --against his will -- to envision the crime based on the pieces of evidence that had been left behind. At the back of the church climbed a staircase to an old choir loft where Forensics was collecting a set of fresh prints that had been left on the dusty floor. "They recorded this, sir," one of the techs told him. "See, tripod stand marks. With a zoom, they could have gotten the whole thing up close.” Graham looked around. “They took their time, this was very well planned.” Chet opened a line to one of his Task Force members in D.C. who was standing by. “Ken, begin Web monitoring for new encrypted traffic or snuff scenes. This was recorded. If chat rooms start buzzing with details, I want to know about it within the hour. I'll send you up some digital images of the scene so you'll know what to look for. We don't have time to follow hoaxes and false leads." Chet went back downstairs and shouted for attention. "Listen up, People! All of America is going to have an opinion on this. We don't! We have a purpose, let’s work the case. And I give you my word, I will personally crucify anyone who LEAKS THIS TO THE PRESS!” Boston Emma and Sebastian watched the news from Dallas in horror. The random killing of mutants was now escalating into a sport. “I think we need to accelerate the agenda, Sebastian. Kelly is almost certainly going to run for the White House. Things are worsening much faster than we had anticipated.” Sebastian walked to the window and looked over the urban landscape, lightly dusted with snow. “The first part of our agenda has failed thanks to that fool Armitage, and the second has given us no leads yet. In fact, the second could easily have gotten us caught if Pierce hadn't aborted his attempt to break into Luthor Manor. You must get control of your operatives, Emma. We must move carefully and deliberately now. We have aroused suspicion and that is not good. We have one man on the inside, in Washington. No, my dear, patience is called for at this moment.” Emma lifted a wine glass and saluted him. “As you see fit.” Smallville Clark used his x-ray vision to make certain the boys and Elsa were in the playroom, breaking in new toys and having fun. He wanted them nowhere near a television set. He could see the horror on his mother’s and Anne’s eyes; it was a mirror reflection of his own. CNN was showing the exterior of a church in Dallas where a 15-year old boy had been tortured to death. Murdered because he was a mutant. Whitney walked over and pulled Clark into a hug. The whole family was in shock, speechless. Lex placed a hand on both his lovers’ shoulders. “Now it begins.” He looked over the family and shook his head, fighting back the tears. “I’ve had a few meetings with fellow Senators. We are not going to let Kelly pass that bill.” Jonathan went to Martha, pulling her protectively into his arms, and then reached out a hand Anne. “Lex, be careful. Kelly is a demagogue," he warned him. "What do we need to do?” Lionel walked over to Lex and stunned his son with a stout hug. “You do whatever you need to in order to stop him," Lionel whispered in Lex's ear. He released Lex and turned to address the room. “We need to divert money and resources, create safe houses and ways of escape. They desecrated a church; they don’t fear the law any longer.” “I have to agree that we need alternate plans and that means we need the Staff’s help," Lex said, warmed by Lionel's support. “They are all trustworthy and very loyal,” Whitney commented and Clark nodded in agreement. Jeff looked around. “We have plenty of ready assets -- some buried under layers of subsidiaries. We can start with those.” “We must make this a family priority.” Lionel looked over towards the boys’ area. “I overheard Chris and Alan complaining about the need for an increase in the security staff. Given that we will be in three locations now, with the ranks of our enemies growing, we need to strengthen security immediately.” Lisa shook her head, one hand unconsciously rubbing her abdomen. “This is a nightmare. Elsa will most likely be a mutant and this one will as well. Lex, we trust you.” The weight of their trust only added to the weight Lex still felt from his horrible dreams. He hoped he could beat back any and every attack that was launched at them. Dec. 30, Washington Sen. Kelly walked out to a podium on the steps of the Senate. The cold air and threat of snow did nothing to deter him. “My fellow Americans, the tragedy in Dallas illustrates the dire situation our nation faces. Mutants are being hunted down and crucified - because they are different. This is not how it should be. The Mutant Registration act will protect human and mutant alike. Allowing the government to understand and know who they are and what they can do. It is a path that will bring understanding. As mutants hide, it brings fear, and with fear comes hate. We must overcome this. I will submit the Mutant Registration Act to the Senate next week. With it as the law of the land, we can overcome hate and prejudice.” Across the country people listened; some with skepticism, some with awe and approval; some with horror. Sen. Kelly was making a bold move and anyone with an ounce of political savvy knew that this would be the platform from which he would launch his campaign for the White House. Vice President Trask sat in his office of the Naval Observatory and laughed. He looked at his guest with a smile. “Well, Gabriel, this gets better and better. He turns a nightmare into a way to pass that law and with a little help from us; we can convince the reluctant public to support him.” “Panama? Is that what you are talking about?” “Of course. Kelly sat on the information we fed him. That means he can keep a secret. Our time is at hand and he will be our puppet.” “He is a shrewd operator and a politician, we must be careful," Vance warned. "The Christmas Day execution could work against him as well.” Trask motioned to the television. “We have no exposure on the issue. It's Kelly’s neck. However, Desmond's task force could prove to be an obstacle for the proper spin. I think Justice needs to take over and that Task Force needs to go through a Special Investigator.” Vance cocked an eyebrow at Trask. “Will the President approve such an action?” “We can try.” Smallville Lex and the family were once again gathered around the television, watching in horror as Kelly took a tragedy and turned it to his own political gain. Anne and Martha were furious. Lionel and Jon sat shocked. Whitney looked at Lex, trying to see a way to counter the man. “Lex, what does this do?” Jonathan shuddered. “Lex, does he have the votes to pass that bill?” Lex looked down and then at the room. “Possibly. If the people buy Kelly's spin, he might be able to rally the votes." "Then you can't let it come to a vote," Whitney told him. "We can kill it by not bringing it to a floor vote or by convincing Chase not to place it on the calendar, but you're right. It's far too risky to bring to a vote.” Lionel captured Lex's gaze. “Whatever you need us to do, arm twisting, blackmail, - whatever - consider it done.” Lex sighed. “Let‘s hope we do not have to take those measures. I already have a few key allies on this issue and they are adamant that the bill never reach the floor. I give my word, I will do EVERYTHING I can to make sure it does not become law." He moved to a box he'd brought into the room with him earlier. This was as good a time as any for the unveiling. "Tomorrow is the beginning of a new era for us," he told his family as he opened the box and brought out three small chains bearing engraved platinum shields. He handed one to each of his lovers and kept one for himself. It was the House of El shield framed by the Luthor-Fordman-Kent mythics of Unicorn, Griffin, and Phoenix. "This is the new family crest. It will start flying on New Years Day, and with it, may we find the resolve to fight and win every battle. For the alternative is too horrible to ponder.” Lex reached out his hand. Clark and Whitney took it. The platinum chains wove through the tangle of hands, sealing the bond. tbc... |
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